


Dea Certe

by kaitlia777



Category: Breakout Kings
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: A wierd thought passed through my mind after the bit about Julianne going off her meds is revealed.What if Lloyd was also off his meds after Julianne was? Of course this means that for the story Lloyd has to have been on them in the first place . Think about it , if Gambling, illegal prescription writing, hper at times Lloyd is him UNDER control , how out there would he get without medication? <br/>The going off meds occurs either because it was finally picked that Lloyd was the one who wrote the original prescription in the first place (while trying to control himself and only partly succeeding because without them he would have been in jail years before) , because they thought he'd tricked someone into writing the prescription for him by faking crazy (the way he said he got people to leave him alone (apparantly not completely or long term a successful move from later statements) in Steaks) or because a off her meds Julianne finds a way to get them stopped either because she is of the opinion they'd both be better off without meds or maybe because she's a little mad at him for trying to talk her into getting back on her meds .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dea Certe

There's this moment, when you feel someone's life slipping away. It's not that they go cold immediately or suddenly seem inhuman, but there is a shift, a palpable difference. Lloyd knew the moment Charlie was gone, knew Damien's bullet had caused too much damage.

Hands coated in the other man's hot blood, he felt the change. One moment the Marshal was there, mocking them , calling for Erica (not a bad choice for a last sight), and the next...nothing. Everything that made Charlie who he was…gone.

Working traumas was one of the things Lloyd hated during his rotation through the ER. He much preferred the halls of academia and dissecting the mind. Usually it was less likely to end in blood.

Less likely, but not an impossibility.

Lloyd had accepted responsibility for his actions which had led to the death of an innocent girl. He'd written her the prescription that had killed her. Figurative blood as opposed to the physical reality of Charlie's.

No matter what the others tried to say, that was on him as well. Years ago, he'd handled Damien incorrectly and now that sociopath was loose.

Guilt. Shame. Self-loathing…not emotions Lloyd was unfamiliar with, but recent events (combined with the fact that someone in the prison hospital system had finally noticed that he had been the one to prescribe himself his regimen of Depakote, Risperdal and Zoloft and had cut them off) had served to exacerbate things.

What made it even worse is the fact that he knew how bad things could get. That was one of the things he never understood about his patients who went off their meds. Why would anyone voluntarily stop taking medicine that helped them maintain a normal neurochemical balance?

A few weeks off the meds and he could feel things spiraling into the danger zones. Emotions were heightened and his moods were seesawing unpleasantly. He’d always been good at masking things though, at least until the rapid spiral of a manic or depressive episode.

Julianne thought he didn’t understand what she was dealing with, but in truth he understood all too well. The highs were…euphoric, but in a wild, unpredictable way that made him uneasy in retrospect. Call him a control freak, but he hated knowing there was no way to predict how he would behave simply because of a chemical imbalance in his brain.

On a good day, his judgment could be considered…questionable, so why would he want to make it any worse?

He knew it would be prudent to inform Ray of the situation…honestly, he would've felt more comfortable broaching the subject with Charlie, but he was gone. Given the choice between Ray and the new Marshall on the team, Matt O'Leary, who looked like he should still be in high school, Lloyd kept his mouth shut.

Once again, he been left with Julianne to pour through reams of documentation as Ray, Matt, Erica and Shea gave chase to their latest runner (this had been a wise choice on Ray’s part, as both Erica and Shea had taken to threatening him with a trained gun if he didn't calm down… He was feeling a little hyper today) . Adolf Kreuger (and oh, how his parents must have hated him) was a true lunatic and those types were prone to prolific journaling. The prison had shipped them boxes and boxes of his mad ramblings and Lloyd and Julianne had sifted through them as the others followed Kreuger's path of destruction.

In the end, the Journal said given Kreuger away and, as Lloyd predicted, Ray in the others had caught up with the runner in Chapel Hill, Tennessee, birthplace of Nathan Bedford Forrest, first grand Wizard of the KKK.

Case closed, but they were stuck down there, stranded due to more of the tornadoes that had been ripping through portions of the country. Lloyd hoped they were okay, but honestly you didn't mind an extra night on the outside. The office couch was more comfortable than his bunk.

Julian was bouncing around the office, dumping files into their boxes with a clear excess of energy. She was humming a jaunty tune and smiling, pleased at their successful apprehension of Kreuger, but Lloyd knew there was more to it than that. Earlier she’d randomly fled to the bathroom in tears.

It had been a struggle not to react in kind, as on the best of days he wasn't good with happy women, let alone crying ones. He wanted to flee but he was terrified of leaving her alone and, in the end, the fear won out.

He'd crept into the bathroom and patted her hair for 10 min. while she cried, assuring her that they would indeed catch Kruger.

Five hours later, she was practically dancing around the office. Lloyd had to admit he was feeling pretty good himself and smiled as she bounced past.

Struck by in a rationally silly impulse, he reached out, catching Julianne’s wrists in a light grip. She turned startled eyes toward him, but laughter bubbled forth when he twirled her around. It wasn't the most graceful maneuver (mostly his fault), but she went with the spin, hair arching out and skirt fluttering prettily.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, even as she stumbled and lost her balance, falling against his chest. “Whoops!” She laughed, clearly in no hurry to back away.

The words were out before he could even think to censor himself. “You are exquisite.”

For a moment, her mouth fell open in an “O” of surprise, then she blinked and grinned. Draping her arms around his shoulders, Julianne carded her fingers the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You're not so bad yourself,” she replied, in a tone one could only call a purr.

A little, reasonable voice in his head usually piped up at this juncture, reminding him why he needed to back away. He was a con, one who would be incarcerated for a very long time, and she was in an emotionally and psychologically fragile state.

Not to mention the fact that Ray would probably take great joy in ripping out Lloyd’s spine and beating him to death with it were he ever to think Lloyd had been inappropriate with Julianne.

All those very good arguments were lost in a rush of sensory awareness as Julianne leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Lloyd's heart rate jumped as he noted the slightly waxy texture of her lip balm and the floral scent of her hair. Her skin was warm and soft and a lock of her hair brushed his cheek….

He responded eagerly, unable to think of a single rational reason why he shouldn't. When she pushed forward, brushing her breasts against his chest, he broke away with a little gasp to bury his face in her hair and try in vain to collect himself.

* * *

Pressed tightly against Lloyd, Julianne took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of detergent that lingered on his clothes and coffee, which they'd been drinking by the pot for days. It was a good smell. She brushed her lips over the tendons in his neck, then let her tongue slide out and lick him there. A long, low sound of anguish escaped from his throat, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her against him.  
She could already feel his erection beginning to bulge against her belly, and she pressed against it, rubbing against him, intent on hearing him make that sound again. It was the stress of the past few days, she decided. They needed an outlet, they were alone…so why not?  
He pulled her to him more roughly, and she pushed up against him, loving the way their bodies fit together. He was quite a bit taller than her and, up close, much broader. Breathing harshly, he lifted a hand and cupped her face, looking down at her with lust dark, heavy-lidded eyes.  
"Julianne," he muttered. "We really shouldn't... not here, not now."  
Her mind boggled for a moment, then she said, “Now.”  
"Uh." He looked like he was searching his brain for an effective argument, but was coming up empty. Other things were far more urgent. She could relate. "You sure?"  
She pressed her body closer to his, feeling the heat of his skin, the firm strength of his wiry muscles, and she wanted him more than ever.  
Screw the rules of workplace conduct. She didn't have the slightest interest in them right now and really, why had she why had she ever been so worried about playing it safe. "Do I seem unsure?"  
He only hesitated for a second, then grinned and reached down, hands finding purchase on the back of her thighs, lifting her and carrying her the few remaining steps to his desk. Various and sundry office supplies were swept aside, scattering over the floor. The small, rational part of her brain noted with some relief that his laptop was not amongst them. He set her on the desktop so that she was sitting up, facing him.  
"Lloyd," she said, but found that was the extent of her verbal ability for the moment.  
He opened his mouth, but seemed to be suffering from a similar malady. "Julianne," he said, then kind of waved as if asking if the desk worked for her.  
The corners of her mouth quirked up and she nodded. Who hadn't had an office fantasy or two? True, she never actually thought she'd be acting one out, but that was neither here nor there as he put his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her, hard. There was gentleness and seduction in his kisses, but the over-riding emotion was need. They weren't going to take things slowly, neither of them wanted to.  
His tongue explored her mouth, tasting her, dancing over hers, the roof of her mouth. She met his tongue with her own, stroking and tangling and flirting. He groaned and pulled her against him harder, feeling her breasts push against his chest, her thighs on either side of his, his denim clad erection brushing lightly against the crotch of trousers. She really wished their clothes weren't in the way.

* * *

Clothes were evil. Lloyd came to that conclusion as there continued to be layers of clothing between Julianne and himself.  
Her thoughts must have been quite, because she bunched up his t-shirt, sliding her hands up underneath it, hands stroking over the bare, smooth skin of his back. He broke away from the kiss and let his head drop back, neck arching, teeth gritted.  
"You like it when I touch you," she whispered, a statement not a question. Some part of his brain registered that she sounded quite pleased by this revelation.  
"Yes. God yes, Julianne."  
She reacted to his tone by putting her hands all over him, stroking his back and his chest and his hair, hands caressing, tracing, mapping invisible patterns on his skin. He gave another long, drawn-out groan, and she laughed softly. "Like that, Lloyd?"  
Speech was beyond him, so he nodded wordlessly.  
She leaned forward and nipped, teeth grazing his Adam's apple. "If you wanted, you could touch me, too."  
He realized he'd been overwhelmed by the sensations she was creating, by the fact that he was doing this with Julianne, in the office, on his desk, that his hands had fallen to his sides, clenched into fists. Relaxing his hands, he began brushing them over her. She was wearing a pale blue top. He liked it- it was a good color on her, though he liked green the best- but it had to go. He pulled it off, exposing quite a lot of her creamy flesh, and discovered she was wearing a white bra that only covered about half of her breasts, displaying her cleavage nicely.  
He stared, wanting to have this picture permanently burned into his mind. He'd learned long ago that a beautiful memory could get you through some hard times, keep you sane.  
"Julianne," he rumbled, voice even deeper and more growly than usual. "You're beautiful."  
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."  
That was a typically Julianne comment and he couldn't suppress a smile. She never took compliments well, and tended to brush them off or respond with nervous denial. "I mean it, Julianne. You're gorgeous."  
"It's a good bra."  
He reached for the clasp, which was in the back- He hated those, it always took him forever to get them undone- unfastened it, and tossed the bra away. He gazed at her for a long moment. "Nope. Still gorgeous."  
She rolled her eyes again, but he just cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading gently as he continued to watch her.  
With a playful growl of her own, she said. "You get to stare, I do too." She yanked at his t-shirt, managed to pull it over his head, and studied him the way he'd been studying her. He knew he wasn’t cut or overly muscular, but he was in pretty good shape and she didn’t seem disappointed.  
"Nice," she said at last. "Very nice."  
Leaning forward, she began brushing kisses over his bare chest, and his brain short-circuited again. Her hands were on his back, her lips on his chest and shoulders, and he let his hands roam all over her, too, touching her soft skin and her soft, somewhat rumpled hair.  
Then her lips brushed over his nipple and he made a noise that some might classify as a whimper. But it totally wasn't, cause that was just undignified.  
She lifted her head, wicked grin on her face. "Like that?"  
He ground his teeth together. "Just a bit, yes."  
She did it again. Pleasure shot through him and something inside him just seemed to break. He couldn't take it any more. Without pretense, he shoved her over onto the desk- not roughly, but not really gently, either. She kicked off her shoes and he stripped off her pants and panties, then gripped her knees, pushing them apart.  
This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured the day ending, but he would admit to having thought about it over the months they’d known each other. This was a fantasy come to life. Julianne spread out on his desk, naked and waiting for him.  
Her hair gleamed in the low light of the office and her skin made him think of cream and silk. He could see her breasts rising and falling as she panted for breath, could see her exposed pink flesh glistening with arousal, and a renewed sense of need flooded him.  
Part of him wanted to just unzip his jeans and slide into her, but he wanted to make sure she was ready. And she looked so turned on as she stared at him, her legs spread wide, her most intimate flesh exposed to him, that he couldn't help himself. He bent and pressed a kiss there.  
She jerked, whether from shock or pleasure he wasn't sure. "Lloyd," she gasped. "No, Lloyd, just, just..."  
Ignoring her half- hearted protest. He ran his hands down her thighs, parted her with his fingers, and began to stroke her very slowly, carefully with his tongue. Her protests died away, and she moaned, dug her fingers into his hair, and held on.  
Her arousal was spicy on his tongue and heat and need swirled inside him, more intense than ever. He slid a finger into her, then two, feeling her slick channel stretch to accommodate him, feeling her hips push eagerly against him. After a few minutes, he was sure she was ready for him and God knew he was ready for her.  
He started to lift his head away, but she clutched at him. "Lloyd... please..."  
Responding to the desperation in her voice, he lowered his head again and began stroking her with his tongue, a little faster, a little harder. His fingers moved inside her, in a hard, fast rhythm. She cried out, writhing against him, her fingers trying to tangle in his short hair as her heartbeat thundering in his ears.  
He lifted his head just a little, seeing her eyes clenched shut, her mouth open as she sobbed with pleasure, and it didn't take an expert to know she was close. "Come for me, Julianne," he said softly.  
He ran his tongue over her again, thrusting his fingers harder. She arched her head back and bit on her fist to muffle her scream as her body shuddered frantically, her inner muscles spasming around his fingers, over and over again.  
At last he pulled his hand away, raised his head, and looked at her. Her body gleamed with sweat and she stared back at him with wide eyes, like she'd never really seen him before. He could understand that. This was extremely new territory between them and he wasn't exactly holding back. She didn't seem to mind though, if her muffled screams were anything to go by.

She looked at him for a moment longer, like she was trying to get her bearings, or, more likely, trying to recover. At last she flashed her wide grin and said, "Your turn."  
She looked at him for a moment longer, like she was trying to get her bearings, or, more likely, trying to recover. At last she flashed her wide grin and said, "Your turn."

* * *

Still gasping for breath, Julianne looked up at Lloyd. He was still standing between her thighs, his face tense, his jaw set, staring at her body as hungrily as if she were a supermodel, instead of, well, her. Her body still hummed and glowed with the aftereffects of her orgasm. She'd never come so hard in her life, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the release of stress, the slightly forbidden aspect of doing this at work, or if maybe it was just... Lloyd. There had always been…something between them and now she had him all to herself.  
Oh, shut up, she told herself. For once, she decided to go with the flow and not over think things. Right now, she wanted to focus on Lloyd.  
He was still staring at her, his gaze roaming over her body, his eyes so hot she could almost feel their path.  
She moved restlessly under his gaze, wishing he'd do something, instead of just standing there and looking at her. She needed his touch. Despite the incredible climax, her body was still aching deep inside. She wanted more.  
She wanted him.  
"Lloyd," she whispered. "Please."  
At the sound of her voice, he seemed to snap out of his trance. He reached down, unzipped his jeans, and shoved down his boxer briefs.  
Anything she might have said trailed off as he caught her legs and pulled her gently toward the edge of the desk, bracing her legs flat up against his chest. She frowned at the somewhat awkward position. "You're going to do this standing up?"  
Dark lust flickered in his eyes, but there was concern for her there as well. "The desk's hard. Don't want to smoosh you."  
He was between her thighs and she was still lying on her back on the desk. Her ankles were over his shoulders and, with her legs spread wide, she felt very exposed. So much so that she couldn't quite repress a heated blush. He put his hands on her thighs, squeezing gently, caressing the skin, then pressed against her, a look of intense concentration on his face. Finally, she felt the tip of him slide into her. It felt amazing, and a spasm of need rocked her.  
"Lloyd," she whispered throatily.  
He closed his eyes, breathing hard and groaned, "God, Julianne."  
He pushed into her a little further, and she moaned, putting her hands onto his and squeezing. "More," she pleaded.

* * *

Lloyd reveled in how good Julianne felt. Her body was soft and warm and slick and it felt like they'd been made for each other. He pressed into her slowly, carefully, making sure he wasn't pushing too hard, and in a moment he found himself buried to the hilt, deep inside her. Pleasure filled his veins with heat, and his chest felt so tight he could barely breathe.  
He paused for a long moment, listening to the unsteady sound of their breathing and feeling the rapid beat of her heart. He dragged his eyelids open, even though they felt like they were weighted down with granite, and looked at her face, seeing her eyes closed, her head arched back, her face glowing with something akin to rapture. He wondered if it was always supposed to be like this or if the combination of denied attraction, hypomania, need, stress and other factors were adding up to this and his previous, awkward encounters had been the norm.  
Additional trials would be needed to test his theory.  
Staring at her for long moments, he wanted to memorize the way she looked right now. Part of him wanted to freeze his right there and never move on, because this…this was perfect. This was peace. This was life. But at last he couldn't hold back any longer.  
He pulled out of her very slowly, looking down as he did so. He wanted to watch their bodies move together as he thrust back into her, starting to make love to her in a steady, methodical rhythm.  
This was what they wanted, needed, and the sensation of their bodies rocking together felt awesome, so good he couldn't stop himself from moaning and sighing. Sweat broke out on his skin, and he moved harder, faster, deeper.  
He could feel her body clenching around him and she sobbed for breath, her hands clamping down on his, and then she was crying out again, almost wailing, her hips losing the rhythm and going wild against his.  
"Julianne," he whispered harshly. "Oh, yes, Julianne, yes, yes..."  
And then his words trailed off into inarticulate noises, frantic sounds that at a more sane moment he wouldn't have believed could come out of his mouth. His body shuddered as he climaxed, coming in an endless, hard burst of pleasure that wrenched a long cry from his chest, until his voice was hoarse from crying out, until his body shook violently and his hair was wet with sweat.  
At last the ecstasy faded, and he became aware that his legs were trembling under him. Sinking into his desk chair, he pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair, still shaking.  
"Julianne," he whispered again, pressing kisses against the top of her head. He felt like he ought to say something else, but he couldn't think of anything to say, because there was absolutely nothing in his mind beyond her name. There was nothing in his mind besides her.

* * *

How long they sat like that, bodies cooling and breaths slowing, Julianne didn't know, but it was nice. Lloyd's fingers played along her back, drawing abstract figures while she patted his chest, enjoying the friction of hair under her palm.  
She didn't know how this would affect their working relationship, but they just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

* * *

Comments, pretty please?


End file.
